


Why Am I Here?

by DittyWrites



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Companionable Snark, Gen, Humor, Kidnapping, Lil bitta angst too, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: Prompt: Bruce/Harvey - “Why is your penis on a dead girls' phone?”





	Why Am I Here?

The feeling of cold metal wrapped around his wrists was the first sensation which Bruce experienced upon waking. He was seated upright and from the stiffness and chill of the seat he could tell it was made of some flimsy metal.

Easy to break through in a pinch.

The last thing he recalled was a feeling of extreme dizziness, of being drugged, as his vision failed and he collapsed. As he tensed his body, he could feel that his expensive suit was fitted around him comfortably and he took a moment to gather his wits as he prepared to face whatever was holding him here. From the breathing in the room he could detect three others present, men, and he inhaled as he put his best expression of panicked confusion on as he feigned awakening.

Bruce Wayne would panic in this situation.

“W-What is going on?” He stuttered, squinting as his eyes to dart around the floor. There was a table before him and he could faintly see the outline of black leather shoes indicating that someone was sitting across from him - waiting for him to look up.

The room was reminiscent of a prison holding cell in its barren state, and aside from the men held within it, the table was the only other item.

Glancing up, Bruce felt a jolt of surprise as he recognised his captor.

Harvey Dent.

Two-Face.

“Harvey.”

Only a slight hint of his confusion had seeped into his tone.

“Bruce.”

Harveys' voice was calm yet clipped. It was the voice of an irritated Harvey Dent, rather than a relaxed Two-Face, and Bruce was put off-guard by the uncomfortable familiarity of it.

Sparing a glance for the two thugs, unarmed, who stood in both corners of the room opposite him, Bruce was quick to return his gaze to Harvey.

The main threat of the situation.

His expression was closed-off and the scarring which had torn through his handsome face on his left side was looking somewhat healthier than usual, despite its inherent grotesqueness, and the healed nature of it led Bruce to suspect that Harvey was in the middle of one of his 'good' periods.

Harvey had participated in a mass breakout from Arkham two months previously and Bruce had heard nothing concerning him since. No sightings by the docks, no whispers of plots on the wind and he had brushed it off as he sought out other escapees such as Tetch, who had been determined to cause as much havoc as possible immediately after his escape.

The only thing of interest which had cropped up concerning Two-Face was that he had been in contact with his psychiatrist, a specialist whom Bruce had flown in from Bludhaven to assist in Harveys' care, and had contacted her via phone several times.

However, any hopes Bruce had possessed over Harveys' potential reform were being severely shaken by this current predicament.

“Why am I here, Harvey? What is this?”

The million dollar question.

Two Face attacked Batman with no reprieve but Harvey Dent did not attack Bruce Wayne.

Even in his darkest moments as Two-Face, Harvey had never specifically targeted Bruce as a victim of one of his crimes. There was too much history between them and the lack of persecution had always left Bruce with a vague feeling of hope that Harvey could still be saved and even as he sat, he could feel no rage emitting from the other man.

But even the fact that Harvey had went out of his way to kidnap and handcuff him was disturbing.

“Harvey,” he prompted again as Harvey just continued to watch him, his scarred eye unblinking as he stared, “why have you brought me here?”

“Why is your penis on a dead girls' phone?”

“What?!”

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not that.

As Harvey slammed a photograph on the small table which sat between them, Bruce was uncomfortably aware of how ironically this mirrored their usual encounters with the only exception being that Bruce was the one performing the interrogation in his full batsuit and cowl instead of a split-toned suit.

Moving his head forward, Bruce stared at the image. It was an explicit screenshot of a male penis and the mobile number which sat above it, the sender, was very familiar to him.

After all, it was his own.

Feigning embarrassment and surprise, Bruce slammed his own hands on top of the image.

“That's not mine!”

And it was true.

In-keeping with his playboy persona, he had to experience the occasional media scandal and he had assumed that a leaking of private images would be enough to last the tabloids and paparazzi for a good while. So he had dedicated a very concise amount of time to finding an image which was similar enough to his own 'package' to pass by those who were familiar with it without the actual humiliation of having to take and release his own pictures.

Gotham could take a lot from his but he would retain his dignity.

It had been an excruciating activity and he was thankful that neither Alfred nor his kids had walked in on that particular batcomputer search.

“Don't lie to me, Wayne!” Harvey hissed as he balled up his fists. “This was found open on the phone of Victoria L'Amont next to her strangled corpse and the police have made you their first person of interest because of it.”

Bruces' eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had no knowledge of any of this information so it must have been a very recent development within Gotham. Victoria L'Amont, an air-head socialite, was a woman he had very vague contact with and she was one of the few he had 'leaked' his images to because it was more likely that she would go to a tabloid and attempt to sell him out.

His gut twisted as he considered the circumstances of her death and he hoped deeply that he had not been indirectly responsible for her death in any way. He had only ever sent images to women who were notoriously single and held no commitments. Her death was something he would need to investigate privately as soon as he was free from this interrogation.

Still protesting his innocence, Bruce shook his head vehemently.

“Harvey, I swear that's not mine.”

“Cut the shit,” growling, Harveys' frustration was clear as he continued using Bruces' surname, “and stop lying, Wayne! Even I recognised that it was you and it's been years sin-”

Harvey cut himself off suddenly, unwilling to disclose any more information than was necessary to the others in the room, as the faint memories of youthful indiscretions and heated debates which always ended with even more heated actions flooded Bruces' mind.

“I have my sources within the GCPD,” Harvey explained as he picked some imaginary dust off the front of his suit, “and they told me that you were a suspect. So, tell me, why did she have it? What excuse will you give the police?”

Folding his arms on the table, Harvey stared him down and - for a moment – Bruce could see the ghost of his old friend sitting in the exact same position, questioning him as he practised and developed the persona he wanted to adopt in court.

He could also see his fingers twitching and he wondered if Harvey was fighting the urge to bring out his coin.

“I must have sent her it during one of our 'conversations',” Bruce lied easily placing emphasis on the final word, “but I cannot recall doing so. When you're in my position, you send a lot of images to a lot of different women and it can be hard to keep track.”

A tiny hint of disgust entered Harveys' gaze as he rolled his eyes and Bruce could feel small tendrils of shame gripping him as he sensed the disappointment within the other man. However, his appearances had to be kept.

“What the hell happened to you, Wayne?” Harvey muttered, his scarred lips barely moving as the soft words escaped him.

“What the hell happened to you, Dent?” Bruce shot back, irritated at having been scolded by this man whom he had arrested more times than he cared to count, but he instantly regretting the words as he saw Harvey fight back a flinch.

Bruce knew exactly what had happened to Harvey Dent.

Feeling a touch guilty, Bruce tapped his handcuffs on the table and tried a different tactic.

“Why am I here, Harvey?”

His voice was soft and as his gaze focused on Harveys' face, he was surprised by the look of confusion which had clouded it at the simple question. The small room was silent as Harvey internally debated his own reasoning and the answer which he would eventually give.

Mildly amused by Harveys' uncertainty, Bruce sat with a thoughtful expression as his former friend came to a decision.

“You paid for us to receive treatment from that Bludhaven psychiatrist instead of the usual Arkham swines,” Harvey admitted, not quite meeting Bruces' eye, “and she was,” he paused again, “kind to us and we thought that you deserved the jump on this.”

This was an excuse, a lie, and between the shifting glances and the mild flippancy, Bruce did not have to be the worlds greatest detective to work that out.

“So you kidnapped me just to warn me?” He concluded.

“A necessity,” Harvey contested, “because you would not have come willingly and I am a wanted man.”

“We could still ransom him boss if ya wanted to,” one of the henchmen piped up from his position in the corner, “like, we could make him pay for a safe return home. I'm sure the pretty boy can afford it.”

Twisting in position, Harvey snarled at the man and his face turned ashen as he realised his mistake.

“YOU WERE TOLD TO STAND THERE AND STAY QUIET!” Harvey bellowed, his tumultuous nature taking a turn for the worse as he rounded on his employee. His scarred hand dug into his pocket as he pulled his infamous coin free and tossed it high in the air in a threatening manner. “WANT TO TEST YOUR LUCK? GET OUT!”

As both men scrambled to leave the room, Bruce watched them passively.

“Harvey,” Bruce interrupted as Harvey continued to breathe heavily as he fought to control his temper, “thank you for warning me.”

His tone was soothing as he attempted to lighten the mood before he was forced to bring Harvey in for yet another murder and, leaning over the table with his cuffed hands, he placed one on Harveys' shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

Distracted by the touch, Harvey turned and Bruce locked eyes with him for just a moment as he allowed him to understand his genuine appreciation for the warning.

Harvey could only hold his gaze for a moment before breaking away and he looked almost deflated as his aggression left him as quickly as it had appeared.

“I hope your alibi is strong, Bruce, because if it isn't they'll come down hard on you for this one. She was an heiress and the family has a lot of ties.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “It's moments like this where you need friends.”

“It's moments like this” Bruce agreed, “that I truly regret that the greatest lawyer, maybe even one of the greatest men, this city has ever seen has been lost to her. For now, anyway.”

“Good old Bruce. You'll never give up on me, will you?”

Harveys' wistful tone implied that the question was intended to be rhetorical but Bruce responded anyway.

“Never. I have, and always will, believe in Harvey Dent.”

Harveys' grin exposed all of his teeth on his left side and the wolfish nature of it held a certain charm which even the scarring could not completely ruin.

“And Harvey Dent believes that you should stop sending out pornographic materials to women whom you barely know.”

Clasping his hands defensively, Bruce fought off a small smile at the rare display of humour.

“Noted.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, i am not 100% happy with this but i can't quite put my finger on what it is (i think it's because i'm not used to writing this pairing and i'm still trying to find the tone i want for them) xx


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